Hope In Pain
by TheBlackWook
Summary: Half lying on a hospital bed, Harrison Wells enjoyed this moment that would soon rarely show. Holding Caitlin Snow in his arms, pouring a continuous stream of tears on his chest, he tightened his grip. Yes, there would be hope. - OneShot Harrison Wells / Caitlin Snow Pre-Series


**Disclaimer :** The Flash belongs to Andrew Kreisberg, Greg Berlanti, Geoff Johns and CW. I make no profits of my work.

**Author's Note :** I was trying to write some sort of a continuation to another fic but... I just had this image in my head, I don't really know why, but I need to write it down : everything went easily, first shot. You must know that I was really inspired by _Rosemary's Theme_ from the movie The Giver and I think it really fits the story : so you should listen to it while reading this story. Final word : this is a translation of a fic I wrote in french, so I hope I did good. Please, let me know if it's okay and if you liked the story :) ! Have a good day and have fun :) !

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><p>She was here. Here in this pale and empty hospital room. Here like every other day since he woke up. When he saw her, with no apparent injury, he could have not said why, but he felt relieved, as if someone had relived a weight from his shoulders, he didn't know he was bearing. But still, it was this feeling which invaded him. Whatever physician diagnoses of his condition on his legs and apparent paralysis. Forgotten his dreams and fallen hopes. Although she had made a point to avoid the topic, he was not this stupid and weak not to notice some black eyes, some thoughts betrayed by the body language of the body care hospital. If he didn't count her visits, it was a sad and lonely daily that awaited him. But she kept coming… He didn't really know why, nor was he trying to understand why, thought his scientific and curious mind was intrigued. She spent long hours, sitting on chair near the bed, talking to him about all and nothing, sometimes bringing him some pastries to add some sweetness to the meal he had to support being stuck in the hospital center. He wanted just one thing : be able to leave this place, be free to do what he wanted, go where he wanted. Of course, it won't be really the same now, but it was still better than to stay in bed all day. He was frustrated, angry, even a bit sad sometimes, devastated by the grief he had caused. His only moments of respite and appeasement were in her presence. Her smile, which seemed to hide something, her almost red brown hair cascading over her shoulders : how beautiful she was ! He often took the watch, observed her, when she was telling him a story from her childhood or what had happened to her during the week. Lying on his hospital bed, only raised with cushions, he laid his eyes on her face, her hands, her eyes, her mouth, her lips. Long before the explosion, when she arrived at STAR LABS if he remembered well, he felt something different for her. They shared the same scientific vision, had a similar humor, had a lot in common. He had tried to push away those thoughts but every time he was with her, he realized he already knew. But he restrained himself. Age gap, conflict of interest and doubts had gnawed him and he had never dared going further than a flirt barely perceptible. And it is helpless that he had attended the outbreak, as fast as unexpected, of the relationship between this beautiful young woman and that <em>damn expansive plumber<em>. This is also thinking about the one that stole the woman he loved, who had dared to take the first step, that he asked about him. The idea never occurred to him : he was so good and calm with her by his side that he forgot about the rest, that he sometimes forgot the horror he did. And it was when he asked his question that he understood why she had avoided talking about the explosion during all this time. He felt guilty, dejected for her, sorry for asking seeing the impact it had on her. She first tried to stay strong, as she repeated herself day after day after this tragic accident, but when she saw his worried, apologetic and sincere gaze, she couldn't hold back any longer. Big and hot tears were now rolling down her cheeks. Unable to bear the sight any longer, he grabbed her and pulled her to him, her head resting on his chest. His hospital shirt was soon wet, but he didn't care. What mattered to him was her. And despite the pain, despite the sorrow he felt for her, he couldn't help hoping. A second chance was offered to him. The road would be long and winding but he would be patient. He would wait. Because what could he do? Half lying on a hospital bed, Harrison Wells enjoyed this moment that would soon rarely show. Holding Caitlin Snow in his arms, pouring a continuous stream of tears on his chest, he tightened his grip. Yes, there would be hope.


End file.
